Unlearning Perfectionism

And honoring the imperfect

I didn’t know that a partner could really love me and my imperfections.

I always felt unconditional love from my mom – I could behave perfectly or have dozens of flaws, and she would continue to show affection and admiration towards me.

Love felt conditional with my dad, however. I felt I had to be perfect in order to receive love from him.

In psychology, this phenomenon of feeling the need to prove ourselves to receive love is referred to as the Parental Conditional Regard and is often associated with perfectionism. It occurs when a child’s sense of self-worth and acceptance is contingent on meeting the expectations and standards set by their parents. The child learns that they must be perfect or excel in specific areas to receive approval, love, or validation from a parent.

Early on, I learned that being well-behaved, working hard at school, and getting straight As had its rewards; I received more positive attention and time from my dad. Since he was usually working, getting more time with him was special to me.

According to my dad’s Eastern European mindset, being well behaved also meant that negative emotions, such as tears and general sadness should be hidden or avoided altogether. “You’re too smart to be emotional,” he would continually remind me.

Over the years, my dad’s dismissive behavior of my emotions led me to suppress them in front of him, and eventually, in front of the men I dated. My assumption was that no one would want to see that side of me – it wasn’t pretty. It was emotional. It was imperfect.

(Side note: This perfectionist mindset affected me in various ways beyond my emotions. I constantly pushed myself to stay fit, excel academically and professionally, and be the right amount of fun and serious.)

I created an internal narrative that said, “If I can be perfect, I’ll be loved by the man in front of me.” Because of this, I would withhold contradictory opinions, shut out my emotions, and rarely have difficult conversations. I wanted to be the coolest cool girl. Easy. Not difficult. Never causing issues. Perfect.

And so, I chose a lot of relationships with men who were also picky perfectionists – like my father. Until now.

Last week, I was going through many emotions as I was wrapping up my Lisbon apartment renovation, had a full schedule with a dear friend visiting, and was experiencing monthly mood swings – on top of my usual experience of getting acquainted to a new life in Portugal.

My first inclination was to shut everyone out – including my boyfriend. I wanted to work through the feelings on my own. I also wanted to withhold this side of myself from JP.

JP is incredibly perceptive, however. He’s able to quickly read the room, tune into how someone is feeling, and empathize with what’s going on. He ended up stopping by my apartment that afternoon, and even though I tried to put on a happier face, he immediately inquired about my emotional state.

I was initially hesitant to share. But my emotions took over, and a cascade of tears quickly followed.

“It’s okay for you to share your emotions with me, Anna,” JP consoled me. “I want to see every facet of you.”

The perfectionist within me shuddered.

Our perfectionism causes personal challenges, but it’s also linked to challenges with intimacy. It creates a fear of real vulnerability, creating a sense of emotional distance. It can also lead to micromanaging what we share with someone and feeling the need to prove ourselves to our partner, which often leads to even more anxiety.

JP wants to fall in love with 100% of me – not the 10% that I deem worthy. He welcomes me as I am. He knows that if I can share all of myself with him – I’ll be more authentically myself (which also gives him permission to be authentic and imperfect). This doesn’t mean that JP doesn’t support my growth or desire to become a better version of myself. It simply means that he wants to learn about my full spectrum of emotions and characteristics, versus just the bright and shiny ones.

My relationship with JP is helping me rewire the deeply ingrained belief that being perfect means being lovable. I’m being reminded that healthy, conscious relationships are about showing imperfections to our partner, and them, to us. Still, it will likely take time, reminders, and altered behavior to change something that’s been a part of me for so long.

Though relationships are a great place to practice becoming more comfortable with our imperfections, there are also things we can do on our own. We can dig into our past to understand the roots of our perfectionist tendencies (most stem from childhood experiences, so understanding our family of origin is important) and see how we’re re-creating them in adult relationships.

From there, we can learn to have more self-compassion and acceptance towards ourselves. My friend Katie Horwitch writes about this in her book, “Want Your Self,” where she focuses on the transformative power of self-talk and self-compassion. She shares practical exercises to cultivate personal kindness and understanding. Developing these behaviors with ourselves takes time, but it’s possible.

Unlearning perfectionism is a continuous practice – but I’m continually working to honor all parts of myself and silencing the voice that raises its hand to tell me that I’m unlovable when I’m emotional or imperfect.   

That voice isn’t mine. And it’s time to say goodbye to it.

Cheers to celebrating our imperfections - including playful cartwheels. Me on film, by Hadley Rosenbaum